feline grace and suppleness, with silky drop-over ears and a tufted
tail--an exceptionally fine cross-bred collie, the Stone bulldog, a
Dandie Dinmont, and a Welsh terrier, the last extraordinarily small,
bright, shapely, and game. The slogi had apparently been most carefully
trained for the ring. He entirely ignored the other dogs, stood erect on
his hind feet at his master's word of command, jumped a chair with
exquisite grace and agility, and in a variety of other ways exhibited
both wonderful suppleness and remarkable docility. The collie was
handsome, beautifully groomed, and rather snappish. The Stone bulldog
made a picture of good-humored British stolidity, and if his hind
quarters had been equal to his superbly massive front and marvelously
"smashed-up" face he would have been tolerably sure of a win in any
class. The Dandie Dinmont had the most delightful eyes imaginable, and
was a good-bodied dog, faulty only in tail and in a tendency to be
leggy. The Welshman was a little miracle of Celtic grace--the very
incarnation of doggy sharpness.

The only member of this select company whose presence was really
distasteful to Jan was the collie. This lady's temper was clearly very
uncertain; she had a cold blue eye, and in some way she reminded Jan
strongly of Grip, a fact which served to lift his hackles markedly every
time he passed the bitch. The Master quickly noticed this, and did his
best to keep a good wide patch of ring between them.

The six were each favored with a long and careful separate examination
by the judge, upon a patch of floor space which, fortunately, was right
opposite to Betty Murdoch's seat. Betty rustled her show catalogue to
call Jan's attention when his turn came, and kept up direct telepathic
communication with him during the whole operation. This, combined with
the Master's studious care in handling--a business of which he had had